Rock and Roll High School: Year One
by Catlethea
Summary: On his way to his audition at Performing Arts High School in New York, Kevin meets somebody who could possibly change his life. Warning: slash, some language. Several OCs added.
1. Bus Stop

Kevin was standing at the bus stop, thinking about the day ahead of him. Today was his audition for Performing Arts High School, and he was very far away from his home in Iowa, which didn't help his nervousness much. If he screwed up, he would have to go all the way back home and face his father's disappointment and his mother's pity, two things he wanted to avoid at all costs; it was a lot of pressure.

For the thousandth time that morning, he reminded himself to relax, took a deep breath, and started pacing the bus stop to take his mind off the audition. There weren't many people there, surprisingly enough, so Kevin was nearly alone at the bus stop, and the people that were present paid no attention to him. And that was okay with him.

By the time he had stopped pacing and was relatively calm once more, two boys about his age had arrived and were standing away from the group, talking and laughing together. They both had black hair and were wearing black shirts, and the taller boy was wearing blue jeans, but the slightly shorter, thinner boy had a backpack and was wearing neon green, legging-like pants.

The bus finally arrived, and Kevin hung back to let passengers get off, watching the thin boy out of the corner of his eye. He was glancing between his friend and the bus, looking regretful, then his friend said something to make him smile, and he put his hands on the taller boy's sides and kissed him square on the mouth. Kevin wanted to stop watching them-he was blushing profusely-but he couldn't help but keep looking while they kissed, eyes closed in ecstacy. The other people at the stop didn't ignore the pair as they had Kevin, but instead shook their heads or made disapproving sounds, or purposely turned their backs.

Kevin boarded the vehicle and watched out the window as the bus driver honked the horn, separating the boys, and the one in leggings dashed inside as well, thanking the driver. The driver, a middle-aged black woman, said, "Don't thank me, kid, just sit down. I've got better things to do than wait around for you."

The boy smirked, then headed for the closest empty seat, beside Kevin. To keep from staring at him, Kevin bent down and checked his bag to make sure nothing had fallen out.

"You're a dancer, too?"

Kevin straightened, and the black-haired boy was looking at him, pointing to the ballet shoes in Kevin's bag. Nodding mutely, Kevin watched as his companion reached into his own bag and pulled out a pair of very beat-up black toe shoes; Kevin's eyes widened. He said, "You dance pointe?"

"Believe it or not, I've been doing it for three years." he admitted. "How about you?"

Kevin shook his head. "I'm not very good at pointe yet. I just started last year. How long have you been dancing?"

The boy chewed his lip and thought for a long moment before answering, "I think I was around seven when I started. So. . . about half my life now. And you?"

"Pretty much my whole life." Kevin said, then stuck out his hand. "I'm Kevin, by the way."

"Jiri." Jiri responded, shaking Kevin's hand. "So, I take it you're trying out for PA?" Kevin nodded, and Jiri smiled. "Well, let's hope we both get in, huh? Like to talk with you some more about dancing. Maybe we could hang out sometime?"

"That'd be fun." 


	2. Auditions

Kevin sat down on the floor and took a swig of water; his audition was over, and the rest was in the hands of his teacher, Ms. Kraft. The next group came forward and took position, and Kevin spotted Jiri, who gave him a small smile, then stretched a little before standing still to wait for the music. Jiri looked out of place in his green leggings and his careworn toe shoes, and people were giving him strange looks, but he didn't seem to notice or care.

"All right," said Ms. Kraft, "Same drill as the other groups. You'll all dance in formation as instructed, and I'll call you forward as random individuals, then you will solo. This is to see how good of an individual dancer you are, as well as to test your improvisation skills. Everyone understand? Now, starting in four, three, two. . ."

The music began, and the group moved as a single, well-synchronized mass. Unlike Kevin's audition, the music was not classical, but an alternative track with vocals, and Kevin could just see some of the students planning out their solos, expressions of deep concentration on their faces. Jiri, however, was smiling a little as he danced, thoroughly enjoying being on his feet.

The first few solos were failures; the dancers were unprepared, and one girl even fell. Some of them were getting tense and nervous, but Jiri stayed happy. The teacher noticed this, and called out, "You there, number 609."

Jiri grinned even wider, then broke out of the pack to the front of the room, sliding forward on pointe. From there, he spun twice and performed something that was a fascinating cross between ballet, modern, and hip-hop freestyling, and Ms. Kraft was smiling a little by the time she sent him back. On his way back to the group, Jiri caught Kevin's eye and smirked, then winked, falling into step with the others.

Kevin couldn't hold back a smile in return. 


	3. Happy and Gay

For the second time that day, Kevin was at the bus stop. Only this time, he wasn't nervous, and he wasn't alone; Jiri was with him, and they were happily chatting back and forth, trying to learn more about each other. Both of them were very excited and high off the fact they had gotten into PA, so they were much more talkative and less reserved than normal, practically babbling uncontrollably about whatever came to mind. It wasn't half bad, Kevin decided.

"Ah!" Jiri exclaimed suddenly, stretching. "God, I can't wait for tomorrow. No, wait, I can't wait to see the look on my mom's face when I tell her I got in. She's going to freak OUT!"

Kevin laughed. "Why?"

Jiri leaned on the arm of the bench and explained, "The thing is, well, my mom thinks I'm an idiot for wanting to dance. She just. . . She doesn't get it, you know? Ever since I started taking lessons, she's been betting me I'll never make it as a dancer, and even more so lately. I mean, I've got to dance after school every day, plus my normal homework, and now I have to make time to hang out with Andrew and all my friends. . . It'll be a miracle if I can make it through the year, my mom says. So I'm going to try and prove her wrong."

"That makes sense. And Andrew, is he that guy-" Kevin began.

"Yeah, he's the one from this morning." Jiri said, nodding, then he looked down with a blush and a smile. "We've been going out for a month now. That's another thing my mom thinks will make me fail, being gay."

An awkward silence followed, then Kevin swallowed and said quietly, "I don't think your sexuality has anything to do with the way you dance. I mean, you're the best dancer I've seen in a long time, so. . . And it's perfectly fine with me that you're gay. I mean, I. . ." Kevin stopped, licking his lips. "I've-I've been. . . trying to-"

"Figure yourself out?" Jiri supplied, and Kevin nodded with a sigh of relief. Jiri half-turned to Kevin and said, "Well, if you need. . . like, any kind of help with it, you know, I know plenty of guys. So yeah."

Kevin blinked, surprised. "Thanks, Jiri."

Jiri shrugged, pushing some of his black hair out of his eyes. "No problem. I mean, what are friends for?" He chuckled, then suddenly snapped his fingers and exclaimed, "Oh! I just remembered. . . There's a party on my block next week, for my sister's Sweet Sixteen, just some friends in the neighborhood. Would you maybe want to go?"

"Sure. I mean, if this first week of PA doesn't kill us." Kevin joked, happy; he had been accepted into PA, he had a friend, and he was going to a party! His life couldn't be better. 


End file.
